User blog:Bane7670/Short Fiction Series: Underlying Faith
Rejorhaa'ruetiise meg'oyacyi jorcu mhi r'asham. Tell the ''aruetiise that they live because we died.'' : ―Inscription on a Mandalorian memorial to fallen mercenaries, Kyrimorut Like a strong breeze over a dying flame, the Jedi Order was being extinguished. And they never saw it coming. Even under their noses, the Sith were allowed to accumulate power without opposition. Worlds were occupied by the soon-to-be Imperial Army, the entire economic system was under the soon-to-be Emperor's control, and a space station was under construction that was soon to be the most effective enforcer the galaxy had ever seen. And the only ones who ever dared to question Palpatine's actions were Amidala and her loyalist committee. That would be dealt with as well in time. At the moment, there was a much greater detail to attend to. The clone known as "Gree" acknowledged his command and signed off. Palpatine grinned slightly. Even then, the concept that the Jedi suspected virtually nothing amused him. The clone who had discovered the biochips within the Grand Army had been executed, Lord Tyranus had covered his tracks with Sifo-Dyas, and at long last, Anakin Skywalker had been turned away from the Jedi Order and embraced the Dark Side of the Force. Explosions were already echoing outside from the Temple. Everything Palpatine had planned was falling into place. Even if several of the Jedi deployed across the galaxy escaped Order 66, it would make little difference. Public belief of their uprising would be fueled by three years of questionable judgement and growing distrust for the Senate. Little help, if any, would come to the survivors. One by one, they would fall as well. Darth Vader would willingly hunt them down and not hesitate to execute them without mercy. Swiftly and steadily, their fire would go out of the galaxy. Palpatine keyed the next Clone officer's communicator code. After another few moments, the clone appeared, helmet removed, unlike most of them, but still with the same amount of undying loyalty in their eyes. Good. "Commander Blake," the Emperor spoke. "The time has come. Execute Order Sixty-six." * * * * * : Order 66: In the event of Jedi officers acting against the interests of the Republic, and after receiving specific orders verified as coming directly from the Supreme Commander (Chancellor), GAR commanders will remove those officers by lethal force, and command of the GAR will revert to the Supreme Commander (Chancellor) until a new command structure is established. : ―Contingency Orders for the Grand Army of the Republic: Order Initiation, Orders 1 Through 150, GAR document CO(CL) 50-95 Pain. Confusion, death and darkness among other things, but pain stood at the top of them all. Never before had Gram Alnin felt such a surge of pain wash over him in that way. Never before had that amount of darkness ripped through the Living Force and sent it spiraling out of balance. It was the possibilities of who was at the epicenter of it that made him even more sick than the fact that the Clone Troopers were behind it. Even after learning that Dooku was responsible for the GAR's creation, the Jedi still trusted the Clones' bravery and commitment. For good reason of course. They were always willing to give up their lives to save their Jedi Generals. But no one could have guessed that Dooku's master still held control over them. The Republic's own soldiers hunting the Jedi on command... Public faith in the Order―or whatever was left of them―would surely crumble now. But no time to worry about that now. There was a death warrant out on the Jedi. Blake would have ordered Thruster Company to conduct a full search of the area by now, and whatever order they were issued had to have been noticed by the fleet in orbit. Maybe Tenant wouldn't pass it on. Maybe he, like Blake, was showing his own doubts. Either way, Gram had to get away from the Clones, off world if possible, and get a full handle on the situation across the galaxy. He needed transport and the closest venue of that nature was the Republic Outpost. Basic construction was complete and most hands would be out searching for the Jedi, but there was still a risk. Risks worth taking, he had always told himself. The drainage ditch he had found actually ran alongside the west face of the outpost. After trudging through nearly half a kilometer of mud and grime, the speeder garage came into view. Quite typically, there was a squad stationed on the outer perimeter. None of them anywhere near the entrances, but enough there that entering without being detected would be difficult. Gram reluctantly unhooked his lightsaber from his belt and kept a thumb on the activation stud. He knew sooner or later it would come to this. He just wished it had been later. He looked around for a suitable distraction―of course, none were readily available―when one of the clones to the far left shouted something, and the others within Gram's sight ran off into the tall grass in the direction of the shout, blasters raised. That made things easier. Still keeping the lightsaber in his hand, Gram climbed out of the drainage ditch, double checked in both directions and dashed towards the service entrance to the right of the garage door. He remembered all the access codes, but there was always the chance that Blake had locked the entire place down and would be alerted immediately if someone had accessed the speeder garage without proper notification. Gram huffed in frustration. It seemed far-fetched, but it did suit Blake. Always planning ahead. Gram was running out of time. Oh, crink it. He raised his lightsaber― The door slid open as though it complied with Gram's threat. He looked around warily. Not that he was complaining, but should that have actually worked? He took a cautious step into the doorway, followed by another. Another step brought him fully into the garage, bringing a single Clone Trooper into his line of sight. Reflexively, he raised his lightsaber again and extended his free hand palm-out towards the trooper. "Stay back," he warned, searching the trooper's Force aura for any sign of malice or apprehension. He found only concern. "I don't want to harm you." "And I don't mean any harm to you, sir," the trooper responded calmly, removing his helmet and tucking it under his arm. "I'm trying to help you." In an instant, Gram recognized the trooper, and realized that he had no weapon drawn. He slowly lowered his hand. "Why and how do you intend to do that?" Gram asked, still keeping his lightsaber ready. "The entire battalion is hunting for me. Why do you choose to deviate from their orders?" Lenn was almost as calm and collected as Yoda. "Because I can recognize when an order is wrong," he responded, walking over to one of the speeder bikes. "I understand the order I was given and the impulse to follow it. But I'm fighting it. The Jedi would never attempted to stage a coup. Not after all they've fought through to reclaim peace. I guess..." His voice trailed off as a hint of doubt slipped through his aura. "I guess I just couldn't believe it." A coup? That was what the Clones had been told? The Jedi Order had attempted to overthrow the Republic? What in kriffing blazes prompted that? Who had issued this order? More questions that could wait until later. Gram returned his attention to Lenn as the latter powered up a 74-Z speeder bike. He could at least believe that some Clones could fight their programming. "You do realize this is treason you're committing here?" Gram warned, approaching the bike. "You'll be court-martialed if anyone finds out." "I know, sir," Lenn replied after several moments of silence. "But I'll gladly take that over serving whatever the Republic's turning into now." Gram swallowed the lump rising in his throat. What was the Republic turning into? Lenn walked past him and deactivated the garage's main ray shield. "You don't have much time. That patrol will be back around any minute." Swinging his leg onto the bike's seat, he looked at Lenn for a long moment. "Thank you," he finally said, at a loss for any other words. Lenn stared at the ground for a longer moment. "You don't need to thank me, sir," he said quietly. "You just need to survive." Finding that there was nothing further to say, Gram revved the bike and moved it forward. The trooper gave him a firm salute as he passed through the exit. Gram nodded in reply and said, "May the Force be with you." "And you," Lenn replied without wavering. Gram glanced back at the soldier one final time, and then accelerated the bike and sped off into the field. Yes, the Jedi had put great faith in the Clone Troopers. They had every reason to. * * * * * : It was the day I felt my life didn't have any meaning. Everyone I cared about―my team―was gone. I was just another expendable clone, waiting for my turn to be slaughtered in a war that made no sense to me. Can you understand that, Rex? : ―Former clone trooper Cut Lawquane reflects on his desertion from the Grand Army of the Republic Lenn was true to his word. The squad of troops was returning to their respective positions outside the speeder garage. Gram lowered the sound of the engine of his bike to a low purr and moved slowly through the long grass, keeping his head down as he went. He was far enough away when the first clearing came for anyone in the outpost to notice him. Or so he hoped. "Hold it right there!" an all-too-familiar voice called from beside him. So much for hope. Gram sighed and turned his head to see Blake standing to the far right with his sidearm raised and leveled at the Jedi Master, while wearing an icy glare. "Blake," Gram began. "Don't do this. I'm having a bad day." "Dismount from your speeder bike, General," he barked, sending a mixture of burning anger and flickering hesitance through his Force aura. "You're under arrest!" "Why?" Gram asked calmly. "Have I done something wrong?" "You're a traitor to the Republic!" he answered, emphasizing his point by jabbing his pistol in Gram's direction. "I'm taking you in for your trial!" "My trial?" Gram continued, stoking the fire within Blake. "You mean for being part of an uprising that never took place?" Blake eyed him coldly without faltering in his stance. "The Jedi attempted to overthrow the Republic. You've been fighting a war only to do the Seps' dirty work for them. You betrayed the trust of each and every one us!" Blake certainly wasn't attempting to prevent his voice from being heard by the other Clones in the area, but there was still something there... some hesitance. "Blake, do you hear yourself?" Gram asked, adding an edge to his own voice. "What have you known the Jedi to be other than peacekeepers and generals? Why would we attempt to overthrow Palpatine now? Now that we are closer than ever to the end?! The Jedi have only ever served the Senate and any other defenders of liberty and democracy, because that's all we ever seek! You've known it since the day you came into service! How can you drop the strongest belief you've ever known at a single command?" "The strongest belief," Blake countered, angrier than Gram had ever seen him. "that I've ever known is that we follow orders. We serve the Senate too. What would you have me do? Pick and choose whose interests I act in? No, I have a duty. You Jedi always trusted us because we are loyal soldiers, but what you don't realize is that we still follow orders even when they're against your interests. That's what being a soldier is." Indistinct commotion came from behind Gram. Indistinct except for rapidly-approaching footsteps. He wished he had more time to convince Blake that the Jedi weren't the villains, but he simply didn't. It was time to leave. "In that case, Commander," Gram responded. "I have no interest in being a soldier any longer. I want no part in something I cannot believe." He turned away from him, brought the speeder bike's engine back up to a steady whir and prepared to accelerate into the field again. "I wish you could say the same." The bike started forward at a swift pace. Gram reached out to Blake again. All hesitance in his aura was overpowered by the burning rage. The pistol clicked. When Gram didn't even look back, a sharp crack filled the air. His lightsaber was in his hand and ignited by the time Blake fired another shot. It hadn't been directed at him; they were warning shots. He deflected it into the sky, and Blake fired rapidly with a sneer that would dissuade a starving vornskr. Gram still deflected each wayward shot, hoping for a window through which to accelerate before the other Clones arrived. Then, one shot drifted to the left. Gram reflexively deflected it, immediately regretting the action. The next one came head on. He swung his lightsaber 180 degrees to the right and caught the bolt completely perpendicular to the blade... ...sending it sailing square into Blake's chest. The impact pushed him back in a stumble that he normally would have been able to catch. His sidearm struck the ground at the same his backplate did, both with a loud thud. Another pang struck Gram's heart as life quickly drained from Blake's body. He stared down at it for a few moments, then turned away and accelerated the speeder off into the field again. The Sith's purge had taken another life. It didn't matter who it was. They had all been used. * * * * * : During a routine scouting mission of enemy territory, High Jedi General Alnin suddenly attempted to desert his forces. When his platoon followed him, he lashed out, killing several of his own men before escaping into the wilderness. An APB was then issued on Alnin, who at that time had somehow managed to gain access to RO-970 Speeder Garage and steal a 74-Z Speederbike. Though he fled the vicinity after killing Commander Blake (CC-2298), two LAAT/c gunships locked on to his signal and pursued him. The chase ended when Alnin deliberately (according to pilot) crashed his speeder into a crevasse of a nearby cave system. Initial scans reported no signs of life. (For details, see GAR 442 FIELD OPERATIONS LOG submitted by Lieutenant Jumper (CL-4773).) : ―Moff Wilhuff Tarkin's report to Imperial Command For a few moments, he thought they wouldn't fall for it. But at last, the LAAT carrier that hadn't abandoned pursuit scanned the burning heap that had been a 74-Z speeder bike one more time and lifted off back towards the outpost. Gram exhaled and patted R3-E7's dome. "Nice work," he said. "Maybe that will make getting off world easier now that I was killed in action." R3-E7 emitted a mischievous-sounding giggle of chirps as he rolled back out onto the platform of stone in the narrow valley Gram had crashed his bike into. The droid had reached him in astounding time and got him away from the crash site even faster before the LAAT pilot had realized the bike was totaled. The little guy always did enjoy a tight maneuver. But there was nothing more he could do for Gram after that. He had to get off world and search for any other Jedi that may have survived. And soon. With a deep breath, he spoke to R3-E7. "Thanks for that, buddy. I suppose we're even now." As expected, the Astromech objected that it was now Gram who was in debt. He had to chuckle at that. "I'm sure you'd like that but... I need to get out of here and find out what's going on. By myself," he added when R3-E7 started to roll towards him. The droid stopped and emitted a soft beep. "Yes, I'm afraid so," Gram answered sadly. "You've performed brilliantly, Arthree, but I suppose it had to end at some point." R3-E7 warbled a question. "Don't worry about me. I'll be fine. Now go on back to the outpost, before you're missed." Arthree gave a melancholy farewell, then reluctantly turned around and started back towards the fields. Gram watched him for a handful of moments, then concealed his lightsaber within his cloak and started to climb out of the crevasse. It was a surprisingly short walk to the city's marketplace and fortunately, there were no Clone patrols within sight. They might have already been told that General Alnin was killed, but that didn't mean they weren't in the city. Best to not linger, he decided. There was a fair-sized starship vendor and supply store towards at the end of the first street that led into the marketplace. The venue itself could have qualified as its own market; two circles formed the wide, larger-circle-shaped building that occupied the center of what would have been an intersection between two streets. The outer circle was the main shop with service parts and technical assistance while the inner circle was an open lot hosting a variety of freighters and starfighters with their respective price stands next to them. It wasn't until Gram saw the price stand of a worn Rainhawk-class transport that he realized that he didn't have very many credits with him. Sure, he had his usual "scatter fund"―a handful of one hundred and five hundred credit chips that he carried in the event of needing a distraction to get away from a crowd―plus some of his own personal savings, but that wasn't nearly enough to purchase a starship. Making a transaction was out of the question. Republic authorities would be tracking those in no time. There must be something I can at least rent. "Finding everything to your satisfaction, sir?" a smooth, accented voice asked from beside him. Gram turned his head to see a bearded, middle-aged Balosar in a dusty business suit with a well-practiced expression of politeness. "Oh yes," he answered. "I've been looking for a ship. Nothing too big. In fact, a Starfighter would be ideal." "Well, my friend, you came to the right place!" the Balosar answered, placing one hand on Gram's shoulder and extending the other arm to sweep over the lot. "We have a fine selection of fighters, right this way." He led Gram down an aisle between freighters to a few rows of both new and used starfighters. The salesman had not exaggerated. There were fighters of numerous makes and models, in varying conditions, ranging from patrol boats to luxury shuttles. Gram was rather certain that a few of them were even retrofitted Republic fighters. The only question was, which one with a hyperdrive would not be easy to trace him by. Of course, tracing a purchase would mean starting with the manner of payment. That would need to be established soon. But as he was contemplating that, one of the smaller craft caught his eye. Past the first row of fighters, off to the side sat a CloakShape Fighter, not dissimilar to the ones available at the Temple. And even if the authorities traced the purchase to him, it would be difficult to trace a modified CloakShape. "How about this one?" he asked, approaching it. "Ah, the CloakShape," the Balosar attempted to marvel, following him. "Excellent choice, sir. These fine products from Kuat are true wonders of innovation. Easy maintenance, good flying control, and in good condition at that!" "Is it equipped with a hyperdrive?" Gram questioned. "Not this particular one," the Balosar stated. "But we do also carry hyperdrive sleds compatible with this model," he quickly amended. That will work. "All right, I think I'll go with this then," he said, reaching into his cloak. "How much will all this cost?" The Balosar's mildly friendly expression dissolved at the mention of cost. "Well, the CloakShape is thirty thousand credits, and a hyperdrive sled will be another fifteen..." Gram had already winced twice. He counted up his credit chips and had just enough to pay for the sled. "And add in local tax, that should come out to about..." He shifted numbers around in his head and obviously rounded to the larger price. "Fifty thousand credits." Gram sighed and looked at the fighter again. "Fifty thousand?" he repeated. It may have been hyperlane robbery, but he didn't have the time or energy to bargain a better price. "Well... what if... I wanted to take it for a test flight, make certain everything is suitable?" "Why, of course, sir," the Balosar replied casually. "Just leave the deposit." "Very well. How much is the deposit?" The Balosar didn't even blink. "Fifty thousand credits." By that point, Gram had a good mind to send the salesman into a deep, Force-induced trance and have him erase any store record of the CloakShape. But, of course, that risked unwanted attention. Gram rummaged through his tunic again, only this time, his fingers found a long, thick, metallic bar. He realized what he had and pulled out his emergency Republic Credit reserve. It was a large supply of credits directly from the Republic banks provided to various high-ranking officials at the start of the war so that lack of funds wouldn't become an impediment on assignments. The Balosar would probably think Gram was just another dignitary on a secret mission. Perfect. "Would you accept company credit?" Gram asked, handing him the credit bar. The Balosar studied it with great interest. "We would indeed," he responded with a much friendlier tone, hiding any other inner reaction like a cheating businessman would. "I'll go run this and get you the registration. In the mean time, why don't you go ahead and look her over. Make sure that everything's to your liking." Gram smirked. Good business never fails. Within ten minutes, the transfer was complete and Gram was off Sluis Van. "You have been cleared for liftoff, Corell's Talon," the Sluissi spaceport control stated. "Safe travels." Even after he had received clearance and after he had cleared the atmosphere, he waited until the Republic fleet was mere dots around the planet before activating Emergency Code Nine Thirteen. If he could purchase a starfighter without issue, then there had to be other Jedi out there. There had to be. * * * * * : Jedi can't effectively fight the Dark Side if they don't face the hubris that comes with it. No one can. We only ever get as far as we've trusted ourselves and those around us. Without trust, wars are lost before they're even fought. : ―Ahsoka Tano dismisses Holonet interviewers following her acquittal in Republic courts Bail Organa had always been a friend of the Jedi, in and outside of the Senate, and Gram was glad to see that that had not changed, despite the risk the Senator was taking by even making contact with Jedi. But, with how scarce friends of the Jedi had become, Gram wasn't complaining. Organa's starship, the Sundered Heart, was right at the coordinates he'd been given, seemingly down to the meter. Its underside hangar couldn't house the Corell's Talon, but it could easily latch onto the fighter's cockpit from the portside docking ring, and attach it to the underside for storage. Bail greeted him when he entered with Yoda just behind. To see Yoda again was both a delight and a dark reminder. What if they were the only Jedi left in the galaxy? The notion seemed unthinkable, but so far Bail had only heard from the distress signal from them. So far, at least. "Master Alnin," Yoda said, placing both hands in front of him atop his cane. "A great pleasure to see you again, it is. A dark net, have we been ensnared in." "Yes, master," Gram replied grimly. Coming from anyone else, it would sound like an understatement. He turned to Bail. "Have you even seen sign of other Jedi? Even at the Temple?" "Especially at the Temple," Bail stated in a dark tone. "There were... thousands of Clone Troopers attacking. I've never even seen that many troops in one place. The Temple was in flames, no Jedi could easily escape." "Easily". A little optimism never hurt. "Are there even any warning signals being transmitted? Any other beacons?" As though on cue, one of Bail's crew members came down the hall behind them at a swift pace. "Your Highness, we're receiving a coded transmission from Coruscant." "Thank you," Bail responded, already walking back to the bridge. "Decode it at once." Both Jedi followed him, but Gram went at Yoda's pace. "This is very troubling to say the least, Master," Gram said. "With such a mass murder of the Jedi, the Dark Side will not hesitate to consume the galaxy." "Behind this slaughter, the Dark Side assuredly is," Yoda said, lifting his gaze from the floor to Gram. "Rapidly dying out, are the Jedi, but many more questions, have we. Who? How? Answered, they will need to be, before action, we can take." "I hope you're right," Gram replied. Doubting the Grand Master? Of course he was right! It was Gram's own judgment that was in question. Just another concern to add to the long list. When they reached the bridge, Bail was standing before the holocommunicator looking very tense. "Master Kenobi," he spoke loudly. In an instant, that tense stature spread throughout the bridge. "I've locked on. Repeat," a voice crackled. "Master Kenobi!" Bail repeated. Obi-Wan Kenobi's hologram shimmered to life before Bail. His tunic looked slightly worn, but other than that he seemed fine. "Senator Organa!" Obi-Wan said. "My clone troops turned on me. I need help." Bail nodded. "Yes, we have just rescued Masters Yoda and Alnin, it appears that this ambush has happened everywhere." He gestured to one of the pilots. "We're sending you our coordinates." The relief that even one other Jedi had survived alone was fantastic, but that it was Obi-Wan was overwhelming. Gram and Bail were already waiting outside the door to the Heart's hangar bay when Obi-Wan had registered for landing. He arrived in what appeared to be General Grievous's personal starfighter. Formerly his fighter. Yoda caught up to them by the time he'd landed. "You made it," Bail said as Obi-Wan stepped through the door. "Senator, Master Alnin, Master Yoda, thank the Force you're all right," he responded, his expression one of weary relief. "Master Kenobi, dark times are these," Yoda said gravely. "Good to see you, it is." "You were attacked by your troops also?" Obi-Wan asked, walking with the three of them back to the bridge. "Yes. Barely escaped with the help of the Wookiees, I did," Yoda replied. "I sensed the disturbance in the Force early on," Gram stated. "I was able to get some distance on them before they received the order. I fear, however, many others were not so fortunate." Obi-Wan looked down in distress for a moment. "How many other Jedi have managed to survive?" "Heard from no one, have we," Yoda answered. That statement caused the uneasy feeling from before to seep back into Gram's stomach. No other Jedi had activated the Emergency Beacon. No word from anyone else. Katline, Anakin, Etain, Kyle, Ralana. They had no way of knowing if any of them survived. And Gram wanted some assurance that there were remnants of the Jedi Order outside of this ship. He couldn't bear the thought that Yoda, Obi-Wan and himself were the only Jedi left in the galaxy. "I saw thousands of troops attack the Jedi Temple," Bail reported. "That's why I went looking for Master Yoda." "Have we had any contact from the Temple?" Obi-Wan asked. Gram and Yoda stopped walking and exchanged glances. "Received a coded retreat message, we have," Yoda said. "It requests all Jedi to return to the Temple," Gram added, raising his eyebrows. "It says that the war is over." Obi-Wan's face turned to shocked concern as Gram expected it to. "Then we must go back!" he said promptly. "If there are any stragglers, they will fall into the trap and be killed!" Bail gave both of them a cautious look. "It's too dangerous," he told them. "The Temple is heavily defended." "Suggest dismantling the coded signal, do you?" Yoda asked anyway. "Yes, Master," Obi-Wan replied. "There is too much at stake here, and we need a clearer picture of what has happened." Yoda stroked his chin and considered. "I agree," he said. "In a dark place, we find ourselves... a little more knowledge might light our way." The risks were greater than ever, of course, but the only way to maintain light in the galaxy was to enlighten oneself first. Ironically, Gram thought to himself. the epicenter of the darkness is the only place where we can look for light. * * * * * : In a truly remarkable series of events, the Jedi Order has staged an uprising against the Galactic Republic. An uprising which has, not as surprisingly, been crushed in its tracks. After a group of Jedi allegedly attempted to assassinate Chancellor Palpatine, Clone forces both on Coruscant and across the galaxy began a campaign to exterminate all Jedi and any other collaborators. Perhaps it is not an uprising like they are telling the public. Perhaps the Republic has decided to put the Jedi Order out of its misery once and for all. Either way, my fellow pro-secessionists, with such turmoil on the opposing side, things may finally be looking up for our alliance. : ―San Hill addresses the Separatist Parliament from Mustafar Whatever cover-up story Palpatine was telling the Senate and whatever new opinions and theories about the Jedi had started circulating within the public, Gram was rather certain that he didn't want to hear any of it. But he couldn't say he was entirely happy to have not accompanied Bail to the session of Congress either. Gram never thought it would pain him to enter the Jedi Temple. Both locations would prove to be too much to bear. His lightsaber cut through the Clone's comlink as he attempted summon reinforcements. Another swift movement and the blade had slashed across the chest of the stolen Jedi robes the Clone was wearing. The blade ricocheted another two bolts, striking the last Clone down, before the disguised trooper had even hit the ground. Obi-Wan finished off the last one who somehow still hadn't taken the hint from his fallen comrades that three Jedi were more than a match for his squad. All three of them deactivated their lightsabers, allowing silence to retake the hallway. An uncomfortable silence. Two galactic forces fighting for freedom and peace... turned against each other. Despite his best efforts, Gram could not keep the numerous bodies, Clone and Jedi alike, out of his vision. "Come on," Gram said, breaking the uncomfortable silence. "The main hall isn't far now." And he was glad. Any more body-filled corridors might have been too much to handle, not that the main hall was any better of a sight. There were just as many dead Clones, but the number of struck down Jedi only increased, as did the bodies' diversity. Anywhere from Masters to Younglings, the attack had left no survivors. Gram averted his gaze to the overlook of the scorched atrium and sighed. The Sith had ravaged the Order to its core. Obi-Wan stood over the carnage with a deflated posture. "Not even the younglings survived," he murmured shakily. Yoda, however, was fixated on a padawan's body with an expression Gram had never seen him wear: disheartened and confused. "Killed not by clones," he said, glancing up at his comrades. "This padawan... by lightsaber, he was." Gram and Obi-Wan knelt down beside the body and confirmed Yoda's discovery. A thin, straight line of charred black went across the left side of the boy's chest, undeniably a result of a Lightsaber blade. A hundred improbable scenarios raced through Gram's mind. Who with a Lightsaber in their possession would be fighting alongside the Clones to kill the Jedi? "But who?" Obi-Wan found his voice first. "Who could have done this?" All three of them exchanged sickened glances with one another for several more moments of eerie silence. A new Sith Lord. The one thing that seemed clear presented so many other ambiguities. Was it the Sith Master they had been searching for? Was it his apprentice? How could they possibly know who either of them were? Gram must have shaken the thoughts away just as soon as his comrades did. "Come on," Obi-Wan said at last. "We need to get to the beacon room." Another example of a reason both to return and not to return to the Temple. Obi-Wan recalibrated the code with relative ease, and Gram kept a lookout in the adjacent hallway. His communicator received the beacon's new message promptly. THIS IS OBI-WAN KENOBI REPUBLIC FORCES HAVE BEEN TURNED AGAINST THE JEDI AVOID CORUSCANT, AVOID DETECTION STAY STRONG MAY THE FORCE BE WITH YOU Stay strong. Someone had to. At least now there would be a few more Jedi to do so. With that finished, he entered the room to check up on his companions. Why did he have to check? If the body count hadn't wrenched their hearts out already, this delivered the fatal blow. Anakin Skywalker, the Chosen One, was carrying out the Sith's bidding. Obi-Wan only played a short portion of the security holograms, but it was more than enough. With a stab of his Lightsaber, Anakin struck down Cin Drallig before moving onto yet another Jedi while the Clones fired ceaselessly around him. And to crown it all, his master entered the scene. Lord Sidious, and now Emperor Palpatine. Anakin knelt before the deformed figure as he received his next assignment, whatever carnage could possibly remain for him to perform... And that was when Obi-Wan ended the recording. "I can't watch any more..." he whispered, unsteadily stepping away from the console. Despite his best efforts to hinder it, Gram felt what little confidence he had in the Order's survival drain out of him. The Chosen One, the Republic and the Order's brightest hope, torn down and twisted into a slave of the Dark Side. Their future had gone from rebuilding to desolation, and as a finishing touch, the Republic as it was once known crumbled along with it. Hope only remained in a distant glimmer, if at all. Yes, it was there. Gram had to tell it to himself. There was still hope, regardless of how small it was. It was clear. Yoda spoke again. "Destroy the Sith, we must." * * * * * : It's entirely possible that the Jedi's increasingly clouded vision was the result of their own moral degeneration. They'd let so many of their principles slip that the reason they couldn't see the dark side so close to them was the lack of sharp contrast with themselves, like trying to see a gray nerf in fog. They turned off the light themselves. : ―Bardan Jusik, former Jedi Knight "There does not appear to be any serious damage to your cardiac muscle tissue," the medical droid explained, using the datascreen beside him as a visual. "And your heart rate had stabilized. Recommend extended period of recuperation for both cardiac and neural tissue to heal." Gram sighed. He didn't need a droid to tell him that much. The Alderaanian medic beside had far more empathy. "You should be fine," he said warmly, removing the medpatch from Gram's chest. "Just need to take it easy for a week." "Thank you," Gram replied, attempting to put his lower tunic back on, and abandoning the effort as soon as a sharp pain pulsated through his shoulders. The Alderaanian kindly reapplied the garment for him. "You'll be all right, Master Jedi," he said with a kind smile Gram expected from most any Alderaan native. "Could have been worse. Rest easy now." Yes, it could have been worse. He could have been killed. But it also could have been much better; The Jedi Order could have survived beyond himself, Yoda, and Obi-Wan, and Anakin could have been saved. Darth Sidious could have been destroyed and balance restored to the galaxy. But still, he reminded himself out of habit. It could always be worse. Both medics left the room, allowing him some solitude. The duel in the Senate was a haze to him now. He remembered confronting Sidious and even holding his own in one-on-one Lightsaber combat with him. But then, the memory went dark. An unspeakable pain struck him with the power and heat of a supernova, but fortunately, that part only lasted a couple moments before he lost cognitive faculties. When he awoke, he thought that he was dead, and for all he knew, he could have been. He lay on the floor for several minutes―could have been several hours―before finally registering that he had some ability to move his body. Yoda had continued the duel with Sidious into the main Senate Chamber, causing several hoverpods to come crashing down. Along with democracy. He managed to escape the building before Yoda could finish Sidious off―or vice versa―and he narrowly evaded the approaching Shock Troopers to reach the maintenance crew entrance. Bail had received his signal and only took one minute to reach him by the time Gram was at the receiving dock. When they arrived back at the Sundered Heart, Bail got another message, this time from Yoda, requesting a similar emergency pickup. It was clear. They had failed. Perhaps the prophecy was true, only the Chosen One could defeat the Sith. He was the only one who could bring balance to the Force and destroy the Sith. Then why did he join them? Obi-Wan was the only hope left at that point. Any surviving Jedi, Gram and Yoda included, would have to go into exile, into hiding, before anyone could oppose the Empire. But would that even make a difference? Gram exhaled and leaned back in his bed, closing his eyes. He hated to think it, but would any Jedi stragglers matter? Was the only hope not even relevant to them? "Why, hello there." Gram's eyes reopened and he shot up from the bed, wincing as he did so. He leaned on his elbows and focused his eyes on the figure in the doorway. Finally, some good news. Kyle Redbreak stood in the doorway in a worn tunic, with his hands clasped behind his back. "A little more worse for wear than usual, I see," he said, approaching Gram's bedside with a weary but content grin. "Kyle," Gram greeted with a nod. "Thank the Force you survived." "Likewise, old friend," he responded, his grin fading. "I wasn't sure if there was anyone else. Senator Organa was the only one who even picked up my signal, and apparently bounty hunters are already looking for Jedi to turn in." Gram should have expected that much. Mercenaries and other opportunists would use major government changes to their advantage any way they could. Ironically enough, it was a Mercenary from Mandalore who actually helped Kyle escape. As they both recounted their respective escapes from the "Imperial forces," they came to terms with the reality: while the Temple would now keep Jedi away from Coruscant, they had nowhere else to go other than hiding. The age of the Jedi was over. Public opinion had been right all along: the Order was weak and unfit to command a war. Or much of anything else. "I heard you were here as well, and I needed to see at least one other Jedi before I... departed," he said, with a dark expression. "You went into the Temple as well?" Gram asked. Kyle nodded slowly, remembering the images with obvious horror. Gram grimaced. After witnessing all the carnage at the Temple alone, it was easy for a Jedi to lose hope. He didn't know if Kyle had seen the security holograms or was otherwise aware that Anakin had fallen, but if he wasn't, Gram wasn't going to add to his pain. "I saw..." Kyle began, struggling to maintain his composure. His Force aura radiated deeply-cut despair. With a deep breath, he finally continued. "Many close friends were in the Temple at the time. Not all of them, no. But..." He bowed his head reverently. "Joch was among them." Looking down, Gram exhaled. Whatever pain either of them felt physically was far outmatched by their emotional strife. "Yes, I know," he stated somberly, his mind drifting to Katline. "I'm sorry." Another nod was his only response. He chose to evade the subject. "What do you plan to do now?" he asked. Kyle looked back up, having hid his exterior grief. "The Senator is going to provide me with enough credits to buy a transport of my own, plus any other expenses I may need," he answered. "I'm headed to Krant." "Krant?" Gram repeated, feeling the inevitable sorrow of their farewell. "Yes. It's isolated enough, and I can meet up with Master Shen-Jon," he explained, walking to the medbay's viewport. "You won't be coming with us when Master Yoda returns?" Kyle glanced at him and shook his head. "I'm afraid not," he said. "I would like to see Obi-Wan again, but... time is of the essence. I must go before this 'Empire' tracks me down." Gram shivered at the term, but understood his concerns. "Very well," he responded. "Be careful then, old friend. I'll see you..." The unfinished sentence sent ripples of uncertainty through both their Force auras. He'd told himself he wouldn't go there. He hated sentimental farewells. "When you see me," Kyle finished quickly, looking at him with worry. "We will see each other again, will we not?" Gram gave him a somewhat calm look. "I can't guarantee that you'll even see any other Jedi again, except for Shen-Jon." Kyle's face became even more melancholy. "What do you mean? We're only going into hiding for a little while, until we can figure out what―" "We're not going to be figuring anything out, Kyle," he cut him off swiftly. "We're going into exile until further notice." As expected, Kyle wouldn't accept that, but some part of him already did. "But... this Empire can't be allowed to exist indefinitely. Something had to be done!" "Yes." Gram nodded, maintaining his calm and firm composure. "Something will be done, but not on our part. The old age of the Jedi and the Republic has long-since passed. Our future is as unclear as it was before this massacre." He felt Kyle's aura darken even more. "We still have a future, Gram. You know that!" he insisted. "There is still hope for us. There's always hope!" "Hope has not forsaken the galaxy entirely." Gram took a deep breath, bracing himself for the truth they had all been avoiding. "But it's not ours. Chancellor Palpatine was a Sith all along. The Council hardly even suspected it. He hid his nature so well because we were too blinded by ourselves to see it. When the Clone Wars broke out, it enveloped our very souls in a thick darkness, causing our principles to slip away one by one. "Any Jedi survivors across the galaxy must now go into exile," he explained, hating himself for what he had allowed himself to become. "Not because they failed in combat against the Sith, but because they failed the galaxy. And themselves. Jedi opposition was right from the beginning. Light has not become scarce because it was struck down, we separated ourselves from it!" "That wasn't our fault," Kyle defended. "How are we to blame for the war or how the Senate decayed? We were only doing our duty!" "It doesn't matter who's to blame for the circumstances," Gram answered grimly. "We lost our way and let the galaxy play directly into the hands of the Sith. Darth Sidious needed us to establish his final components while letting our beliefs stray from our vision... and we did exactly what he desired." He fell back in his bed as though someone had deflated him and rest his right arm over his eyes. "We aren't the galaxy's hope anymore." The room fell silent for a minute or two. He eventually reached out in the Force to check that Kyle was still there. His aura had diminished into a light simmer. They both knew it. Exile was all that was left. "Perhaps there is no further meaning for us like you say," Kyle said quietly, ending the prolonged stillness. "But I will not stop believing in a new hope. I am sorry." He stood and walked to the door. "I wish you could still see something in the future of the Jedi. When we don't, then we are truly lost." The door opened with a soft hiss and Kyle stepped out. "Kyle," Gram said once without opening his eyes. Kyle stopped just before the door's motion sensor lost track of him. "May the Force be with you." He thought he heard a sigh from Kyle. "It seems to be all we have left," he answered flatly. The door slid shut again. Silence retook the room. Maybe Kyle had become embittered by all he had lost, by what he had seen. He was already coming to terms with all Gram had said, but a small part of him refused to believe it. He always dismissed any criticism of the Jedi over the course of the war with the belief that they had no choice and that they were still doing their duty. Now that that belief was defeated, he had only one other to hold onto. And hold onto it he would. All Jedi would. They had to, if not for their own sanity. Hope had not left the galaxy, but the Jedi Order as it was known did. The Force would continue to seek balance, even in overwhelming darkness, and when there was potential for balance, it would flourish. When the light reemerged, it would take a new shape. * * * * * : There is always hope, my friend, though it often comes in forms not looked for. The key is knowing how to see it, and seizing that opportunity. : ―Qui-Gon Jinn, Jedi Master "Hidden, safe," Yoda said grimly, staring down at the Heart's conference table. "the children must be kept." Gram, Obi-Wan, and Bail nodded somberly in agreement. The announcement Bail had received regarding their final approach to Theed had only seared the fresh wound in all of them. Padmé Amidala's body was already in failing condition when Obi-Wan rescued her from Mustafar, and even then, it was in better shape than Vader's body when Obi-Wan had left him. The energy of her will to live had been fully devoted to allowing two new lives to be created, abandoning her own life in the process. Even then, she used her dying breath to express her belief that there was still light within Anakin Skywalker. But it was pushed too deep within the chasm of Darth Vader, and none of them, certainly not Padmé, had the energy to find it back. Instead, the small spark of hope fell to her son and daughter. Luke and Leia Skywalker. And even they, like any other Jedi, had to be hidden from the Empire. "We must take them somewhere the Sith will not sense their presence," Obi-Wan said after a moment. "They should be split up," Gram added. "Taken to separate places in the galaxy." "My wife and I will take the girl," Bail volunteered with a sudden, thoughtful grin. "We've always talked of adopting a baby girl. She will be loved with us." The warmth from Bail emanated into the Force enough to reassure Gram. Padmé would have trusted no one more than he to care for her child. "And what of the boy?" Obi-Wan asked. "To Tatooine," Yoda said. "To his family, send him." Obi-Wan seemed to silently leap forward on the opportunity in the Force. "I will take the child and watch over him." "Very good," Bail said, nodding. "Masters Alnin and Yoda, where will you go from here?" Yoda spoke first. "A place, I know of, that is strong with the Force," he answered. "Concealed well, from the Sith, will I be." Gram inhaled deeply when Bail turned to him. "I've been thinking," he started. "I shall travel to Carlac and lay low there. I have studied it a bit, and there are many opportunities to make a living as a farmer." Bail eyed him warily. "Are you certain of this, master?" he asked. "The Imperial outpost there has undergone considerable fortifications." "It has indeed," Gram agreed. "But since that installation was already established, the Empire will assume that the world will not be of any unique interest. For the time being, they will focus on expanding to other worlds." "There won't be a corner of the galaxy left untouched," Obi-Wan said grimly. He turned to the other end of the table. "Master Yoda, do you think Anakin's twins will be able to defeat Darth Sidious?" Yoda considered it for a moment before nodding. "Strong the Force runs, in the Skywalker line," he said. "Hope, we can." Hope. There was a word that was making its rounds. In such dark times, it was clung to tenaciously. Then, it was stronger than ever. All four of them knew it. Everyone in the galaxy knew it, regardless of how readily they admitted it. It was only doubted because it always took a passive form. Unclear as it was, it was present. "Done, it is," Yoda concluded, before too much more silence passed. "Until the time is right, disappear, we will." Gram, Obi-Wan and Bail stood, bowed to him, and quietly filed out of the room. Yoda held out a hand as Obi-Wan passed. "Master Kenobi, wait a moment," he said. "In your solitude on Tatooine, training, I have for you." Gram eyed him as he passed. He'd already been given the same abridged lesson that Obi-Wan was about to receive on the way to Polis Massa. "Training?" Obi-Wan asked, confused. "An old friend has learned the path to immortality," he continued. "One who has returned from the netherworld of the Force to train me. Your old master." Obi-Wan's astonished tone came through even as Gram entered the hallway. "Qui-Gon?! But... how could he accomplish this?" "The secret of the Ancient Order of the Whills, he studied," Yoda replied. "How to commune with him, I will teach you." Gram himself had yet to actually hear Qui-Gon's voice, but there was no doubting his presence. He, like all things in the Cosmic Force, was present everywhere and nowhere. He had no insight to the future or past, but he offered something even more powerful than any Sith could fathom. Something that was in itself reason to continue on. The galaxy would only continue to plunge further into darkness. Scattered pockets of light would either fade into themselves or be extinguished by force. Darth Vader would see to it personally without hesitation. The Sith would accumulate power and horde it for years to come. But there was one thing they could never reach. One thing that, regardless of how persistently it attempted, the darkness would never understand or overpower. Often was it said that the Force worked in mysterious ways in its never-ending effort to find balance, but there was more to that which Gram now saw. It favored neither side, the Light or the Dark, it only sustained its two different realms: Living and Cosmic. If there was one way it worked in the interests of the Jedi, it was that it guided those who were worthy and dedicated to true balance. Sometimes, faith deserved to be rewarded, whether it was in galactic stability or simply family harmony. It mattered not who or what held onto it. Etain, Kyle, even Padmé. They believed in what the lesser citizens of the galaxy would now sustain themselves with. Hope. Gram saw now what their true perception was. It was clear as day from that point on, when he bid farewell to Yoda, Obi-Wan and Bail; in his meditation during his hyperspace travel in the Corell's Talon; and even sitting atop his fambaa on Carlac, observing the sunset over the snowy plains, beyond which sat his new homestead. No matter how dark and long the road seemed, the light at the end of it shone brighter than ever. "Come on, Mensch," Gram said to his mount, patting him gently. "Let's head on home." The juvenile fambaa snorted and started off in his indicated direction. The Jedi Order and the Republic were finished. A new hope would emerge to take their place. Category:Blog posts